


Rewards

by Faramirlover



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Fluffy, Fun, M/M, slices of life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2905250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faramirlover/pseuds/Faramirlover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond would get rewards if only he could bring back all his equipment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rewards

James Bond is a force of nature, elegant, poised and lethal. He is a master of his own body and a perfect example of physical fitness, wrapped in a devastatingly handsome package, decorated with a quick wit and a razor sharp intellect.

He is also a fucking pain in the arse.

“I didn’t have the hands for it, Q.”

“What about the holster that you pulled it out of? It couldn’t have gone back in there?”

The look 007 gives him is almost pitying.

“A waste of valuable seconds.”

“Throwing a gun away just because you’re out of bullets is a waste of valuable resources!”

The minions have all stopped what they’re doing to watch their fearless leader go toe to toe with a ruthless killing machine.

“The gun’s gone, Q. It’s time for you to get over it.”

“Get out of my department, Bond. You’d better hope I’m ‘over it’ in time for your next mission or you’ll find yourself armed with nothing more than a toothpick and that charming smile,” Q poked at the double-oh’s chest with a stylus.

“You think my smile’s charming, do you Q?”

“Out!”

With a chuckle 007 sauntered away, throwing a last “I look forward to my exploding toothpick” over his shoulder. Wisely, none of his underlings disturbed Q for the next hour.

\------

“What the hell do you call this?!”

“It’s a gun, Q. I would have hoped that my quartermaster would recognise one.”

It takes downing half his cup of tea to stop him lunging for Bond’s neck.

“It used to be a gun. Now look at it.”

“It’s only a little bit smashed.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to be ‘a little’ smashed.”

“I do hope you’re not going to be difficult about this, Q.”

007 is leant casually against Q’s desk, posture loose enough to be both seductive and unforced, but not slouched, and Q doesn’t think he’s ever hated him quite so much.

“I am a professional,” he informs Bond stiffly “I wouldn’t dream of risking any of my agent’s lives by holding a grudge and withholding vital equipment.  I just may be not quite as generous with my toys as I could have been.”

Bond looks vaguely perplexed by this but the conversation is ended by Tanner dropping by to remind Bond of his meeting with M. _“Which started twenty minutes ago, 007.”_

Bond and Tanner are almost out of the door when Q calls to them.

“Oh, Bill. I just remembered. If you see 006, could you ask him to drop by? I’ve got some weaponised toothpicks I think he might be interested in.”

“Why on Earth would you turn toothpicks into a weapon?” Tanner looked genuinely concerned about Q’s mental state.

“Oh I don’t know,” Q shrugged “seemed like a fun idea at the time.”

“If you say so. I’ll let Alec know.”

The look Bond throws him as they leave could almost be mistaken for hurt. Q feels victorious.

\------

“007. We are perfectly capable of taking your equipment back from you. And when Q’s back we’ll show him everything you brought back. What little there is of it.”

Q feels proud of R. Standing up to a double-oh like he couldn’t just snap her like a twig if he wanted to. Brave girl.

“Q gave this stuff to me, I’m going to give it back to him. And only him.”

Q peers round the corner just in time to see R throw her arms in the air in exasperation and storm back to her desk, muttering about looming agents and total incompetence. Deciding to intervene before 007 scarred any of underlings for life, he stepped forward confidently and strode towards his desk, ignoring the double-oh ‘til he’d set his files down and taken a swig of tea.

“Are you bullying my minions, Bond?”

The smirk Bond sent him was positively gleeful.

“Just chatting with the delightful members of Q branch.”

“Don’t you dare try to sleep with R. She’s far too valuable to have you toying with her.”

“Like I’d let him,” R called, flicking her ponytail and shooting Bond a look of pure disdain.

That expression alone is enough to move R from faithful employee to favourite person on the planet.

“What have you got for me then?”

Bond smirk stretched even wider as he slid a tangle of wires and charred plastic onto Q’s desk.

“I genuinely have no idea what this started out life as.”

“I believe this was my gun. And that was my mobile,” Bond gestured at a bit of plastic “And I think that was a credit card, but they all got rather stuck together in the end.”

“And you’re proud of this mess are you? Wanted to show it off?”

“Well-”

“No, Bond. I don’t want to hear it. Get out. I have a key ring to turn into a gun for 003.”

“Why does she get that?”

“She gets rewards for returning her equipment. Intact. Excuse me, Bond. Jobs to do, inanimate objects to blow up.”

He breezed past the double-oh before the agent could get in a grumpy retort.

Two – nil to the quartermaster.

When he returned to his desk later he found a small ear bud resting on a post-it.

_Forgot I still had this – 007_

Fine. One all.

\------

“Left, Bond. No! Your other left.”

“How can there be another left?”

“How do you not know left from right?”

“Shut up smart arse.”

“I’ll switch you off, Bond, if you’re not careful, and then where will you be?”

Bond huffs out a laugh.

“In a peaceful world where-”

Bond’s retort is cut off by the sharp pop of a gun.

“Shit! Bond, report. Bond!”

There isn’t a clichéd fuzzy silence because Q’s equipment wouldn’t do anything as common as pick up static, but the perfect silence stretches on.

“James?”

“Calm down, Q. It’s just my arm, just a little flesh wound. Lost my gun though.”

_Thank God._

“You utter bastard. You’ll take any excuse to lose my guns. It’s not easy to code them to your palm print without compromising the balance, you know. And it plays havoc with the kickback if you’re not careful.”

“And yet they turn out beautifully every time, Q. You’re an artist.”

“Too right, Bond, I am. And you don’t see people throwing away a Monet just because they’ve looked at it a few times.”

“More of a Pissarro fan to be honest.”

“That is entirely beside the point. I don’t care if you have to come back riddled with bullet holes, I want the rest of my equipment back. I’m handing you over to someone else before I deliberately lead you off a cliff.”

With a harsh flick he tosses his headset to a passing techie.

“Deal with him.”

Bloody smart aleck agents. Maybe some time on the target range will calm him down.  He tries to convince himself he’s angry, not concerned.

\------

Frustration had made the first few shots go wide, clipping the targets shoulder and arm but after that things had improved, head, heart, stomach, all neat and fatal. He pulls the ear protectors off and tosses them aside. A moment later he had the gun raised again and pointed at the figure skulking in the shadows.

“Show yourself, or I’ll shoot.”

“Wow, Q. Didn’t know you were so ready to take a life.”

“Oh, it’s you 007. How did you get back so quickly?”

“R informs me you’ve been down here for nearly 3 hours.”

_Oh. Clearly he was more stressed than he’d thought._

“Yes, well. It’s been a long day. What did you want?”

“To return these. Watch, earpiece, radio, belt buckle, pen, keys and some left over ammo. Couldn’t retrieve the gun, I’m afraid.”

Q watches in shock as Bond drew out each item and placed them down for Q’s inspection.

“Keys?”

“Well yes, I couldn’t bring the car in here. It’s parked on level three, bay twelve.”

“What sort of state is it in?”

“It’s missing the little pine tree air freshener thing. I’m afraid it was making me sneeze.”

The quip is accompanied with a shrug that quickly turns into a wince.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

It’s only then that he notices the blood seeping through the fabric of the front of Bond’s suit jacket, turning the dark grey fabric even darker.

“Flesh wound. I said.”

“That was your arm. What happened?” he demanded, elbowing his way into Bond’s personal space and tugging the jacket open, pulling Bond’s shirt up and out of the way, trying to ignore the sticky deep red of the once ice blue fabric.

“Fuck! Bond, why aren’t you in medical? This is vicious. How did it happen?”

“Risks of the job, Q. And I hate medical. I’ll patch myself up later.”

“No you will not, you’re coming with me.”

007 doesn’t resist being dragged up three flights of stairs by his irate quartermaster, and something about that makes Q feel stupidly glad.

“This isn’t medical.”

“Very observant, 007. I’ll sort you out. There’s a kit in my office.”

007 is very obedient, sitting there as Q removes the bullet then swabs and wipes and stitches and bandages. Finally when it’s done he lets himself ask.

“So, was my equipment not up to scratch? Is that why you got shot? Is it my fault?”

“What? No!”

“Then why is there a massive hole in your side?”

“You wanted to equipment back so I brought it back… you wanted it all back.”

“Bloody hell man. I didn’t mean it. If something’s got to get destroyed to keep you in one piece then that’s fine. Use it, smash it, crumble it into dust. I don’t care. Just, just don’t come home to me bleeding in the name of my stupid gadgets.”

_Shit, shit, shit. That’s not what he meant to say. Not that. Never that._

“…Q.”

“No, Bond. No. I’ll, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Q was gone before Bond could say anything.

\------

Bond is sent out on a mission during the night, despite his injuries. All the other double-ohs are out in the field already and his experience is needed to safely retrieve the sensitive data lost by a lower rank agent. He doesn’t oversee Bond’s equipping but he does assemble the kit himself, his beloved Walther PPK, a new watch (complete with GPS tracking and Geiger counter), explosive cufflinks (unnecessarily risky but Bond would like them) and their latest earpiece improvement (colour matched to Bond’s skin tone). It was the best he could do at such short notice, called back in only a few hours after he’d fled home. He’s half relieved to know that the double-oh is gone but the rest of him is just worried.

\------

Despite the superior nature of his communications equipment, Bond drops out of radio contact within twenty hours of leaving Six. He puts the agent out of his mind and concentrates on perfecting some actual stiletto heels for Eve.

It’s a refreshing change from fiddling with tiny circuit boards for earpieces that dickish agents don’t appreciate and toss into champagne glasses at the first opportunity.

There’s a whisper of movement in the corner of his eye and that wouldn’t matter except none of his minions could move that quickly or silently – there have been numerous cases of tripping over thin air, misjudging the distance to the wall and slamming of fingers in draws in the last day alone. A cup of tea slides its way onto the edge of his desk, nudging aside loose papers, steam curling off it, perfectly milked and smelling wonderfully of citrus.

“Successful mission then, Bond?”

“Yes, thank you, Quartermaster. Though I am glad to be home.”

“Any equipment for me? Or have they met an untimely end?”

“I’m afraid we have had some casualties in the fight to protect queen and country.”

Of – bloody – course.

“Fine, leave me my mangled circuits and go.”

He takes a sip of the tea – annoyingly perfect- and watches as Bond begins rooting in his pockets.

“Gun, and holster, earpiece, watch and one cufflink. I’m afraid I had to use the other one to blow a lock.”

He shouldn’t feel so dumbfounded, but he is.

“So, I bring you your equipment and me, in one piece, for your perusal.”

Bond is smirking now, sliding forward in to Q’s personal space with a smile bordering on predatory.

“Very good, Agent. I shall be sure to think of something special to equip you with for the next mission.”

Bond smiled and pushed in even closer “That sounds good, but I’m not after exploding toothpicks or key ring guns or whatever it is the other agents earn for being good.”

“That’s what this was in aid of, wasn’t it? Your reward?”

“Oh yes, but that’s not the sort of reward I want.”

He’s beginning to see how Bond makes all those gorgeous women fall in to bed with him. He’s stunning.

“And what sort of rewards would Six’s finest agent be wanting from his quartermaster?”

“I think you know.”

It’s impossible not to kiss him then, if only to get the smug smile off his face. It’s a simple press of lips until Bond groans against him and then there’s a hand buried in his hair and he’s being crowded against the edge of his desk, Bond’s wide frame pressed deliciously close.

There’s a smattering of applause that brings him back to his surroundings. Most of the minions are hiding behind their screens, pretending to see nothing, but some are watching with fascinated expressions. Bond chuckles and leans back in to press a kiss in to his hair which is both heart melting sweet and galling at the same time.

“Well, Bond,” he says, patting himself down, trying to regain some semblance of normality, “I’ll assume that that’s enough incentive for you to return your equipment next time.”

“I’m uncertain, quartermaster, perhaps we could get together later to discuss the finer details of my rewards system.”

_Hell yes._

“Perhaps that would be a good idea.”

“7 o’clock?”

“Bring dinner and drive me home in one of your fancy sports cars and there’ll be another reward in it for you.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Quartermaster.”

Before he can defend himself Bond has swooped in again with another kiss and then he’s swaggering away. He can’t stop himself from calling after him.

“You hadn’t earned that one, Bond!”

“You can owe me.”

Bond is gone before he can embarrass himself in front of his minions even more, which is for the best. He hums to himself as he finished his tea. Perhaps Bond would like some x-ray spectacles or some fancy, lightweight handcuffs? That could be a reward for them both.


End file.
